


authority.

by chai_and_coffee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fuhrer Roy Mustang, Happy Ending, Hurt Roy Mustang, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Protective Riza Hawkeye, This is my first RoyAi fic SndFKd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: “Is there a reason that you’re calling me at such an ungodly hour of the day?” Riza asked as she surged off the bed, yanking on a simple pair of leggings and a shirt, and grabbing a long coat before grabbing her keys and heading out of her apartment.“It’s Roy.”The two words made her run.~aka: the one where riza gives roy a well deserved break.





	authority.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so confession time:
> 
> this is my first royai fic--i saw fan art of the pairing and fell in love. and then i went on a spree of reading fics, and fell in love with the pairing. 
> 
> i have yet to see the actual show, which means my characterization might be off! please bear with me, hehe. 
> 
> -this fic was largely inspired by tybalt_tisk's fic 'whiskey stained walls'  
-there's a whole agents of shield reference in here
> 
> and with that, i welcome you to 'authority.'

A series of chimes woke Riza up—increasing in decibel as the minutes ticked by. It seemed as though there was a slight pause for a few seconds before the annoying standard ‘Marimba’ ringtone of all iPhones started up again. Groaning, the woman blinked her eyes open, thrusting a hand out into the dark to feel around for her phone. The bright light that was emitted from the screen made her eyes burn, but she was able to blink a few times before reading that she had 42 missed calls. 

Damn. She really shouldn’t have eaten so much before going to bed—it always made her so lethargic. She managed to unlock the phone, expecting it to be Gracia. No one else called her this early in the morning. A quick glance at the small numbers at the top of screen confirmed her hypothesis: it was early in the morning, 3 AM. Two hours before she would usually wake up. 

She tapped the recents and the person at the top of the list and pressed the phone to her ear, hearing the mechanical ringing. The other picked it up on the second ring. 

“What, Gracie?” Riza asked lazily, knowing quite well that that the shortening of her friend’s name would get her a rebuke. 

“Uh, Hawkeye, it’s Hughes.” The masculine, brusque tone was a sharp contrast to the warm airy tones of her friend. The lack of humor in his voice set her nerves on edge—something was wrong. 

“Is there a reason that you’re calling me at such an ungodly hour of the day?” Riza asked as she surged off the bed, yanking on a simple pair of leggings and a shirt, and grabbing a long coat before grabbing her keys and heading out of her apartment. 

“It’s Roy.” The two words made her run. With a quick lock of her apartment, she ran down the steps, the phone pressed against her ear. “He hasn’t been out in a few days. His security is intent on keeping us out.” She can hear the strains of frustration in Hughes’ voice—and she’s sure she can hear a huff from Gracia in the back. 

Her breath spiraled into patterns decorating the cold air as she walked at a brisk pace. “I got it, Hughes. Go home.” Ordinarily, she would have phrased it in a more respectful manner, adding a “sir” at the end, but she knew quite well that the common factor of Roy Mustang had made them friends. 

Her steady determination gave the other confidence. “Let me know when you’ve cracked your Roy.” 

It isn’t until he’s hung up that she realizes what he said with a purse of her lips and a fond shake of her head. Mustang’s best friend was always meddling around in his relationships, and despite the dorky exterior, he was quick to see things and call them out. “My Roy, huh? He’s in for a long night.” 

She glanced up at the looming building in front of her, her destination. She knew that walking inthrough the front and requesting him through his people would mean failure. She circled around the building before spotting a lone panel—a window for her to enter through. “The things I do.” Riza grumbled to herself as her hands gripped at a ledge. Within a few moments, she was rendered successful, gracefully letting herself in. She soundlessly closed the window behind her, her footsteps muted as she moved inside. 

The light was coming from the study, and she was able to see the tension in his shoulders as he hunched over his work, his pen furiously scribbling across paper. He was doing paperwork. That was a really bad sign. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“Are you going to stare at me or come say hello?” Roy Mustang didn’t bother looking up from his work as he addressed his Lieutenant. 

“That depends,” Riza responded, just as smoothly. “Are you going to put your pen down and welcome me in a proper manner?” The statement was a bit odd without her customary “sir” or even the recent addition of his new title, but she didn’t recognize him as her superior. They were equals for one night. 

Apparently his thoughts had led him in the same direction. He carefully placed the writing instrument down before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “When did you get so disrespectful? I always knew you were stubborn, but not disrespectful.” Mustang huffed, and Riza swore that she could see his bottom lip pushed out into a pout. She struggled to hide a smile before making her way to the dejected man. 

“You might be the man in charge, but I’m in charge of you, remember?” She asked with a raised brow, her hands skillfully putting away the work that he had accumulated on his desk. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have accepted your conditions.” He said, and his tone was light and joking, but his dark eyes were fixated on her as she leaned against his desk. Riza noted the bags under his eyes, the slightly haunted look, the way his shoulders were still too tense. 

“You want to tell me why your best friend called me in a panic because you weren’t letting him inside?” Riza asked, her arms crossed and her face expectant. She watched as he scowled, shaking his head. “Damn it, Maes.” was quietly heard from the man before he became quiet, sinking back into his chair as if he expected it to swallow him. 

Knowing quite well that she wouldn’t really get an answer from him, Riza pressed on. “You also want to tell me why you’re doing paperwork this late into the night? Not that I don’t appreciate you working, but you’ve yet to get some sleep, Mustang.” She murmured. The slight ducking of his head made her soften, and her fingers gently found his chin, tilting it up to face her. “Roy.” She murmured insistently, her thumb gently sweeping across his dark circles. 

The use of his first name softened him, and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her as his face pressed into her stomach. “You left.” He whispered, his shoulders curling inwards as though he was a defeated man. 

Her hands came to rub his back and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his overdramatic tendencies. “For three days, Roy. I was on assignment. I came very late yesterday, and didn’t want to bother you by barging in late.” She sighed. 

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Came the grumpy reply. 

“Are you going to actually tell me what’s going on, or are you going to continue evading the subject?” Riza asked knowingly, and when he didn’t respond, she pressed again. “There are two ways we can do this.” She said, gesturing in the direction of his bedroom and the kitchen. 

Roy brightened and wiggled his eyebrows playfully, pulling away. “You’re going to have sex with me to make me feel better?! I want that option.” He said gleefully, and barely dodged the playful swat that Riza sent his way. 

“No! You can either choose to sleep now and we talk in the morning, or you can let me cook a meal for you, relax, and talk this out now before going to bed.” She said, and based on her look, it was clear that she would not be giving anymore options. 

A heartbeat of silence passed as Roy grumbled out a sullen “Kitchen.” 

A small smile crossed her serious features, and she pulled him away from his desk and into the kitchen. She doesn’t want to do anything fancy—she just needs to make sure that he has something substantial in him before going to bed. She catches him right before he goes to sit on the couch, and yanks him into the kitchen with her. If she’s cooking, he’s helping. She’s not going to do this herself. 

With a quick roll of his sleeves and tie of an apron around his neck, Riza clears him to cook, allowing him to chop vegetables while she prepares everything else. Aside from the comment of Roy not appreciating her bossing him around, they worked in silence. She didn’t press the issue or press him into conversation: he’d talk to her when she asked later. 

It’s nothing like any of the other times they’ve cooked before. Usually the kitchen is filled with laughter and jokes, with Roy ghosting his fingers across her neck to tickle her and make her squeal, with her making an endless amount of threats that she’d take a picture of him in his frilly apron and send it to the team. For now, he worked in silence next to her, no jokes slipping out of his lips, no attempts to steal a kiss from her. 

Their meal was much of the same pace. They ate the stew and bread in silence, but Riza felt much more content that she had seen Roy eating something, at least. 

Their dishes were left in the sink, neither of them wanting to wash them. Roy looked to his steely-eyed second in command, waiting for her next instruction. 

“Come sit with me.” She said quietly, moving location to sink down onto his couch. (Technically a futon, and she had been grumbling about how she wanted him to change it, but he was reluctant to, for one reason or another.) 

She heard the soft sigh, but he can’t deny her much of anything, really. He stretched across the remaining space, his head pressed against her lap. Her fingers find themselves sifting through his dark strands, and after a content sound, he finally relaxes, his tension draining. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, and her voice has none of her trademarked hardness. Riza is malleable for her Roy, and she knows that he needs a warm embrace and a soft kiss rather than a hard push and a soldierly pat. 

“Too much work. I’m a war criminal—not a hero. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t be rewarded for—what I’ve done. I’ve got people looking up to me—so many, Riza.” And it is there that she sees where the problem lies. She was a bit apprehensive when he had accepted the title of Führer—not because of his power, but rather the emotional toll it would take on him. Roy Mustang was someone who deserved to be at the helm, but she was adamant that the role should not drain him of life as payment. 

“You silly man.” She teases, her fingers soft as she brushed his hair back. “It’s like our team. You have help from all of us when you need it, but you’re just doing your best for us, right? That’s the same thing here. You still have all of us here to help you, and you’re just looking out for everyone else.” Of course, it’s not so simple as she puts it, but the within-context situation helps him understand. He nods in response, and encouraged by the response, she continues. “It’s just a little different, hm? But you did very well with our team, so you can do very well here. As for your work, a little by little. You’ll get it done. Of course, that means that you have to take care of yourself too.” As she quietly worked out his worries and anxieties, she was reminded of when they were younger and a bit different, when she used to do the same comfort routine. Even someone as strong as Roy needed a hand to pull him out of the pit he had dug, an umbrella to keep him from getting wet.

She could see him drifting off as his worries were soothed, the lack of tension finally caving for the fatigue to crash down. As the slightest pinpricks of the sun were seen outside, he gently pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “Thank you.” He whispered. 

Riza smiled, a fond expression on her face. “No need. Get some sleep.”

“Disrespectful of authority.” He grumbled once at her, before following her order and falling a sleep. A quick snag of a nearby blanket and a flick of her wrist covered him in the fabric. 

His soft snores were a testament to his deep slumber, and Riza reached over for her phone, quickly texting Hughes. 

[Riza: All clear.]

A few moments later, her phone vibrated with a text back. 

[Hughes: Excellent. I’ll send my wife’s cooking over in the afternoon.] 

She grinned at the prospective of Gracia’s exquisite meals as she put her phone aside and looked down at her sleeping superior. 

She leaned down, pressing her lips to his temple. “I’ll go back to calling you sir in the morning.”

A sleepy “Don’t you dare” slipped from the man’s mouth who forgot he was supposed to be sleeping. 

“Get to sleep, Roy.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> we can see who really does have authority!
> 
> let me know what you thought! comments do give me life. 
> 
> catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


End file.
